


In the Interest of Full Disclosure

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, Challenge: anotheratlantis, M/M, Student/Teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-03
Updated: 2007-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/anotheratlantis/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/anotheratlantis/"><b>anotheratlantis</b></a> prompt: John Sheppard is an ambitious law student who takes Patent Law to make himself know to the professor in the hopes of scoring a position in the professors law firm. Rodney McKay is an attorney and an adjunct professor (J.D., PhD's Mechanical Engineering and Astrophysics) who teaches John's class. John smirks, Rodney berates students and they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Interest of Full Disclosure

**Author's Note:**

> I owe a _huge_ apology to whoever suggested this prompt – my own law studies, along with my job, caught up to me and made this so late. This is my first (and probably only) attempt at SGA and it took me far too long to get around to sex, let alone love. I hope the implication of what's to come is sufficient!

"All right, let's talk policy," Professor McKay suggested, grasping the podium with both hands as if it were the only stationary object in the vast, rocking sea of the classroom. In the five-tiered rows of semi-comfortable plastic chairs before him, the students shuffled through their bags, pulling out casebooks still brand new and un-highlighted, laptop computers, and High Court case summaries carefully hidden in the students' laps. The professor wondered, after twelve years of teaching, not to mention his own three years of law school back in the dark ages of the nineteen eighties, if they really thought he was dumb enough not to know that you were reading the facts of the case from a commercial outline.

"Mr. Sheppard," he called out, picking a name at random from his seating chart. "Can you please identify the ultimate, overarching goal of patent law?"

In the top row of the classroom, John Sheppard ran a hand through his hair, only serving to make the bed head worse. He had signed up for this class because it was an in. He'd just gone through the wringer in as a summer associate in a seriously crappy firm, he wanted something better for next summer, and at the moment he had his heart set on McKay &amp; Associates. The fact that Rodney McKay, the firm's senior partner and founder, happened to be an adjunct professor at the university gave John a clear chance to prove himself, but unfortunately the only class McKay taught took place three days a week at eight am, and John wasn't a morning person.

"The goal…" he replied in a loud, clear voice, quickly pulling up the file on his laptop devoted to the course's notes, "…is…"

The professor kept his eyes firmly on John's face, looking distinctly unimpressed, as he tried the "Command + F" function in a hurried attempt to pull up the answer. The first year of law school had taught John that a loud voice was always a good way to look prepared, as was confidence in the answer, even a wrong one. Fortunately, his search finally pulled up the note he was looking for, and he smiled a bit triumphantly as he recited it.

"…to bring new designs and technology into the public domain."

"And what is true of ideas that are in the public domain, Mr. Sheppard?"

"No one has exclusive right to them."

"That is correct, Mr. Sheppard. _No one has exclusive right._ Now why might that be a problem?"

"Inventors want to make money, sir?" John replied with a little smile, earning quiet laughter from a few of the braver students.

"Why yes they do," Professor McKay replied. "But money alone is not a policy interest, or we could all go home and not bother studying any of this. So, Mr. Sheppard, why don't you identify the competing policy interest?"

"Productivity, sir?"

"Is that a question, Mr. Sheppard?"

"No, sir. Productivity."

"Wrong. But close. Try again."

"We want to… encourage innovation, sir?"

"That's right. We want to encourage innovation. We like new ideas, do we not? New ideas are what makes our society move, but no one's going to come up with anything new if they don't have… what was it again, Mr. Sheppard?"

"Money."

"Bingo. Money. So let's turn to the first case, _Bonito Boats _on page eighty-seven. Can you state the issue of the case for us please, Mr. Sheppard?"

 

John had fumbled quite a bit that first day, and it took three restatements of the issue for him to find something acceptable to the professor. Professor McKay wasn't by any means impressed by John's performance, but then, Professor McKay was rarely impressed by anything. In fact, it took three weeks before John achieved real face-name recognition.

"Uh, Professor?"

Professor McKay looked up in obvious annoyance at the hesitant knock. He hated that the university required him to keep office hours, and to make himself available to his students outside the scheduled class times. In his experience, the students very rarely took advantage of these sessions, and it was little more than an administrative form of imprisonment, an exercise in futility that forced him to keep his office door open when he would've preferred to have it firmly shut, or to be in his real office, far from the university.

"Yes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly when Sheppard just stood there in the doorway, unmoving. "Can I help you with something?"

"Um, I hope so," the young man replied, apparently taking the professor's words as permission to enter and lowering his body into one of two not very comfortable chairs angled at Professor McKay's desk. "I was wondering if you could tell me a little more about international patent law."

"There's an excellent overview in the Chisum treatise that will give you everything you need for the exam, Mr. Sheppard, but as I said in class we won't be covering international patents extensively."

"Oh, well thank you but that wasn't what I meant. I wanted to know about foreign technology on US markets, sir… actually, I'm particularly interested in robotics. I was reading about a sort of limited artificial intelligence a guy in India's designing for assisting surgeons… well anyway, I just wondered if you could tell me anything about how that works. The patents, I mean. Not the robots."

Professor McKay stared at the young man for a second, and then slipped his glasses off his nose, setting them down next to his pencil jar with resignation. "You're interested in robotics, Mr. Sheppard?"

"Just as a personal interest, sir," John clarified. "I thought I might be able to get into something related to technologies patents, though… or something like that. I'm not really sure yet," he admitted with a shrug.

"Where did you work this summer?" Professor McKay asked.

"Singer and Lyman, sir."

"Singer and Lyman? Do you have an interest in personal injury litigation, as well?" he asked with another raised eyebrow.

"Um, no sir," John admitted, looking sheepish. "They offered me an attractive salary and I have big loans… I didn't realise they were a bunch of sleazeballs until I'd signed an employment contract."

Professor McKay allowed himself a rare laugh and pressed his fingers to his temples. "Not from around here, are you? They're on the back of every phonebook in a fifty mile radius."

"San Diego, sir."

"California," the professor said with obvious distaste.

"Most recently. I come from a military family."

Professor McKay nodded. "Are you interested in military technologies, then?"

"No, sir. That was my father. I'm… not welcome in the military."

The professor cocked his head to the side, but didn't comment. Political dissident, maybe. "You want to know about US patents for technologies by foreign inventors, then?"

"If it's not too much trouble, sir."

"Well it's not my field…" Professor McKay sighed and leaned back in his chair. "How much time do you have?"

 

The crash course on international patent law and policy had taken about a month of twice-weekly visits during Professor McKay's office hours. Next was non-patentable inventions and how inventors used the trade secrets allowance, and then it was the misappropriation tort. By the time they got to designs and overlap with the soft IP field, it was coming up on finals time and people actually starting showing up during office hours to ask the professor half-brained questions for their outlines.

Rodney wasn't surprised, exactly, at his annoyance when the kids started interrupting – he never had liked student inquiries, after all – but he was surprised that he found himself caring more about the fact that his time to explain the intricacies of patent law to Sheppard was being interrupted than anything more easily justifiable. Grudgingly, after a couple of weeks of this he decided that something needed to be done, and so he suggested that Sheppard start coming in an hour before class, rather during scheduled office hours. Though he wasn't quite as grateful as Rodney would've liked for the free early morning sessions – invaluable, to be sure – he had to admit that Sheppard was a good sport about it, despite having clearly needed that extra hour of sleep.

One morning, halfway through November, Sheppard showed up with the light in his eyes particularly dim, rubbing at them and shaking his head from side to side as if to try to manually keep sleep from settling in. After ten minutes of trying to talk to the man, Rodney frowned and gave up.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No time," Sheppard replied with a shrug.

Rodney frowned again and then stood suddenly from his chair, grabbing his coat. "C'mon. Let's not do this here."

"Sorry?"

"The coffee shop around the corner. Are you afraid of being seen with a professor?"

Sheppard laughed and shook his head. "None of my friends are awake at this hour. But no, sir, I'm not."

"Rodney," he corrected gently. "It's… Rodney's fine. Outside of class."

Sheppard smiled, his hair sticking up at all angles and his eyes rimmed with sleep, and nodded. "I'm John."

 

"What did you do to piss the military off?" Rodney asked one morning, the week before Thanksgiving, blowing on his triple macchiato.

"Sorry?"

Rodney shrugged. "You said that the military doesn't want you, the first time you came to see me. Why not? Did you do demonstrations in college or something?"

"Oh." John smiled and shook his head. "My dad tried to get me to join up with ROTC in college."

"And?" Rodney asked when John didn't volunteer any more information on his own.

"Don't ask, don't tell," John replied. Rodney frowned. "I told."

John smiled, and Rodney, slowly, returned the smile, a little flustered, sipping at his coffee and hissing when he burned his lip. "Oh… I… sorry. I didn't…" Rodney sighed and gave up, shaking his head. "I don't do well in social situations."

John laughed and sipped at his own lattee. "I wouldn't have guessed," he replied dryly, and Rodney glared at him.

"Hey! You're still a student, Sheppard. I could flunk your ass."

"Anonymous grading," John sing-songed.

"I'll know your essays," Rodney countered, and John smiled, taking another sip.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Professor?"

Rodney frowned and shrugged. "We have a big case that's set for trial in January. Probably…"

"Lawyers," John groaned, to Rodney's surprise.

"What?"

"I'm just saying. It's a holiday."

"Well if you've got a problem with it, why the hell are you in law school?"

"A question I've been asking myself every day," John replied in a monotone.

"Bullshit. You'd make a great lawyer."

"Would I?"

"Yeah," Rodney agreed with a grin. "You're a cocky bastard."

"Oh, fuck off," John replied. Rodney was taken aback for a moment, but then he couldn't stop laughing.

"What about you?" he asked when he'd gotten himself under control. "What are your plans?"

John shrugged. "Get ahead on my exams, I suppose."

"What?!" Rodney exclaimed. "You asshole! You're just as bad as me!"

"Whatever. You _could_ be with your family."

"So could you," Rodney countered.

John snorted. "Fat chance."

"Would you… do you want to come over for dinner Thursday?"

John raised an eyebrow. "For Thanksgiving?"

"Well… nothing special. But I hear there's a football game on. We could… watch."

John rolled his eyes. "Such a compelling invitation."

"If you've got something better to…"

"I'll be there."

 

"Wow. This is…"

"What?" Rodney asked, raising a defensive eyebrow as he handed John a beer.

"Surprising. Where do you find time to cook like this?"

Rodney snorted and walked into the kitchen, returning with a steaming dish of mashed yams, topped with candied pecans and brown sugar. "I don't. This is a once a year thing."

"Oh. You do this every Thanksgiving?"

"Barring acts of God and other personal emergencies, yes."

"For yourself?"

"Yes…" Rodney agreed, looking a little annoyed as he put out the stuffing.

"I didn't mean anything by it."

"All right. Well, sit. The food will get cold."

John smiled and took a seat at the overstuffed table, where green beans and sautéed mushrooms were significantly overlapping the borders established by a cheery red placemat.

"Help yourself. I'm not very formal."

"All right," John agreed, and the next few minutes were occupied by "pass the gravy"s and the contented sounds of chewing.

"You know, this is really good," John commented after a while. "If you ever want to sell your firm and become a chef, you've got my endorsement for what it's worth."

"Not very much," Rodney replied with a snort. "But thank you."

"Still." John smiled and Rodney raised an eyebrow.

"You're not flirting with me, are you?"

John nearly choked on his beer, and then gave Rodney an inquiring look and a wider smile. "Why, Professor? Would you like me to?"

Rodney's eyes went wide for a moment before he caught on and frowned. "That was bad, Sheppard. Horrible, even."

"Thanks, I try."

"Do you want the football on?"

"No," John replied, taking another bite of sweet potatoes. "Tell me how the Marion case is going."

"All work and no play, John?"

John grinned and pointed his fork at Rodney. "Pot, I'd like to introduce you to kettle."

"Fuck off."

"Ah, but you just said none of that, didn't you?"

Rodney looked at John for a moment and then replied, enjoying John's resulting flummoxed look quite a lot.

"No. I didn't."

 

"So I guess I should get going. Got… studying…"

"Stay," Rodney countered. They were in the living room, sipping bourbon, empty plates resting on the coffee table after their third slices of pie.

"Um… okay."

"Tell me about yourself," he requested. "You never talk about yourself."

"Pot…"

"Yes, I know."

"Why don't we trade, then?"

"Trade?" Rodney asked sceptically.

"A detail for a detail. We'll start with parents. Still married?"

"Unfortunately. Yours?"

"Happily divorced."

"Remarried?"

"No, but dad does a pretty good job fucking his way through the Army nurses," John said with a snort. "My turn. Tell me… what were you like in law school?"

"Ambitious." John looked at him for a moment, and finally he sighed. "Fine. An asshole."

John laughed and nodded. "Sounds about right."

Rodney frowned. "Thanks."

"No, I just mean… you're successful. Nice guys finish last, right?"

"Nah," Rodney replied. "You've got at least one firm that'll hire you."

"I didn't mean m… are you serious?"

Rodney nodded.

"Oh. Thanks."

"It's not a favour. I'd want you. Professionally," he added after too long a beat.

"Your turn," John reminded him gently, though there was something in his eyes that Rodney couldn't quite place.

"What… what's the most interesting place you've lived?"

"New Zealand," John replied. "For six months. Dad was stationed there. I think it was some kind of punishment, maybe."

Rodney laughed. "How old were you?"

"Ten. My turn. Tell me about your first girlfriend," he said with a grin.

Rodney bit his lip and took a while before answering. "Never had one."

John laughed and shook his head. "I don't believe you. You're not that unattractive."

"Not _that_… you asshole!"

John grinned widely now and took a casual sip of his bourbon. "No, that's you, remember?" He set the glass down and formed a triangle in his lap with his hands. "What I meant to say… you're quite attractive."

"No, I'm not," Rodney replied, though a heat was worming its way through his veins that had little to do with the whisky.

"Of course you are," John replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm not putting you on the cover of_ The Advocate_, but then I wouldn't sleep with most of the guys who are."

"You'd sleep with _me_?" Rodney squeaked.

John blushed profusely and didn't answer. "For the love of God, McKay. Answer the question."

"That's Professor McKay to you."

"Nice try. First girlfriend?"

"I wasn't lying."

"Really?"

Rodney nodded. "You might rephrase the question, though," he admitted, gripping his glass too tightly.

"Wait… really? Or did you mean something…"

"No," Rodney replied. "I was twenty when I had my first boyfriend, if you must know. He was part of the young scholars program as well. The only other candidate for the astrophysics PhD."

"Good God, you are a nerd. What was his name?"

Rodney glared. "Not going to tell you, now."

"Fine. Did you talk dirty about covalent bonds, then?" John asked, grinning quite cheekily now.

"Fuck off."

"Mm, temper temper. I believe I owe you an answer."

"Are you single?" Rodney asked before he realised the question had left his mouth. Maybe he'd had more to drink than he realised.

"Are you serious?" John asked.

"Yes," he replied defensively.

"Rodney, really. If I weren't single, do you think I'd be spending my Thanksgiving with you?"

"Well when you put it that way…"

"As sexy as an affair with my patent law professor _sounds_," John replied, letting that hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "yes, I'm single."

"Oh."

"My question."

"Yes."

"How do you feel about covalent bondage?"

 

"Fuck me," Rodney hissed, arching like a cat against the door frame to which John had his hands pinned, far enough above his head to make his arms stretch a little.

"Yeah?" John asked, mashed against his lips. "How do you want it?"

"On the… bed," Rodney gasped, thrown off a little when John bit his shoulder. "Jesus."

"Yeah," John growled, his voice husky and thick with want. "Get on the bed. On your back. I want to see you."

"You… do?"

John rolled his eyes and let go of Rodney's lips, then kissed him again, this time much more tenderly. "I've a little crush on you for ages, Rodney. Why didn't you tell me you were _gay_?"

"I didn't know you'd react like _this_!" Rodney exclaimed, shoving lightly at John's chest so that he fell back against the other side of the door frame, smirking. His black shirt was completely unbuttoned, and the lamplight coming from inside the room made his skin look warm and unblemished. His hair was askew in the same bedhead look he'd worn the first day of class, this time courtesy of Rodney's hands, and Rodney licked his lips without thinking about it. "Bed, now," he insisted.

"Where's the stuff?" John asked as Rodney awkwardly hopped his way out of his trousers.

"Stuff?"

"Jesus Christ, please tell me you have…"

"Oh, that stuff. There's a tube in the nightstand drawer… fuck, but I don't think I have condoms…"

John grinned and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, sliding one out and waving it around.

"That thing have an expiration date?" Rodney asked sarcastically, and John let out a laugh as he dropped his shirt on the floor.

"You evil little man."

"You get what you bargain for. How do you want me?" Rodney asked, fully naked and trying to casually cover himself with his hands. John turned and laughed, putting the lube and condom on the bed and then taking each of Rodney's wrists gently in hand, pulling them behind his back and pressing his denim-clad crotch against Rodney's erection.

"Less bashful," he replied quietly, with a little grin, and Rodney rolled his eyes. "And on your back."

"On my… all right," Rodney replied, torn between insisting on something less personal and _wanting_ the personal, not wanting this to be a stereotypical clichéd student-teacher affair. John was certainly old enough for it to be appropriate from that angle, at least, and their intercourse on a day-to-day basis was interesting enough from an intellectual standpoint for Rodney to view him as a kind of a friend. Perhaps that was why he didn't object when John bent over the bed and peppered a series of sucking kisses up the inside of his thigh, working closer and closer to his cock. "Yesss…."

"Mm, that's it," John murmured, sucking the head into his mouth briefly and then looking up at Rodney with a mischievous expression – an impressive feat with his mouth half-full of Rodney's dick.

"Christ, Sheppard."

"What?"

"I want you to…" Rodney broke off, and John lifted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Fuck me," he said. "I want you to fuck me. Sooner rather than later, preferably."

John laughed and grabbed the lube, popped it open and squeezed a bit onto his fingers, rubbing them together. "Spread a little more, please," he requested, kneeling between Rodney's legs, and when Rodney did he couldn't help but focus on the strong muscle of John's forearm, flexing and releasing as he eased his index finger in and curled it upwards.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, we're getting to that," John said with a cheeky grin, his other hand resting on Rodney's hip and rubbing lightly.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Rodney asked, though his voice wasn't quite as strong as he wanted it to be.

"I'm trying to be comforting," John said defensively. "But if you'd rather I be silent…"

"No," Rodney said hurriedly. "I wouldn't. Sorry, I just…"

"Too accustomed to being snarky, Professor?" John asked with a grin, slipping in a second finger and curling the both of them.

"God," Rodney moaned, and then blinked, trying to regain his focus. "What was the question?"

John grinned and gave Rodney's prostate another sharp stab with his fingertips, echoing immediately in his cock. "I guess I'm doing my job, then."

"I guess you are," Rodney agreed flatly, but he was having quite a bit of trouble retaining his dignity as the movements of John's fingers, more massaging than thrusting, became more rhythmic. "Christ," he breathed when John's hand wrapped around his cock and pulled a few times. "I want you inside me."

A momentary, dark hunger registered in John's eyes, and Rodney was glad for it for there was no doubt now that John was very much an adult, very much a _man_, and going to be a very good lay, to boot. It wasn't that John had ever been childlike, but still, Rodney wasn't used to fucking twenty-five year olds and he was feeling in need of a slight reality check.

"Pull your knees up," John instructed, a third finger pushing in as Rodney did so, holding them with his hands. This one stretched a little more, but Rodney's erection didn't fade, and if anything jerked and leaked a bit, his mouth opening in a moan.

"_John_," he said urgently, and it was as close to begging as he was going to get.

"Oh, yes," John responded whole-heartedly, pushing his fingers one last time _hard_ enough to make Rodney's hips push forward and his knees nearly slip from his sweaty hands before John pulled away and unzipped his jeans.

"Leave them on," Rodney requested roughly, and John grinned.

"Like the way it feels like that?"

"Fuck me, John," Rodney said simply, and John evidently decided there had been enough teasing for a single evening, getting the condom on before Rodney could ask again and slicking up with a few strokes to his own cock.

"Last chance to change your mind," John warned, sitting on his heels and holding his cock up to Rodney's hole, nudging Rodney's hips up so that he was half in John's lap. Rolling his eyes, Rodney shifted his legs to wrap around John's waist and pushed himself down, pushing out with his muscles and sinking halfway down the length of John's dick.

"Fuck!" John shouted, fully caught off guard. Rodney grinned around his laboured breathing, the adjustment happening more quickly than it usually did.

"Go on, then," he said, raising his eyebrow. John took a moment to compose himself, but then he was pushing forward, bending Rodney's body nearly in half and pressing down, down, until Rodney's balls made contact with John's pubic hair.

"Jesus," John breathed, his eyes falling shut for a moment. Rodney bit back the teasing retort on the tip of his tongue and let John gather his control. If anyone asked, he'd have to admit that he liked this moment to find his centre, to realign from the whirlwind that John Sheppard had suddenly become, the gale force in his life. Fortunately no one was asking, and when John's eyes opened they were all business again, thrusts becoming harder and faster and moans giving way to animalistic grunts to shouts and pleas for more until Rodney finally came, his last vocalization a strangled cry.

"Yes, yes, yes…" John muttered, an almost soothing mantra until he came with his cock lodged deep inside Rodney and pressed his face into Rodney's neck, stilling finally with a surprisingly tender kiss to the flesh there. "Rodney," he murmured after a long while, and Rodney smiled.

"I won't tell anyone," he whispered, stroking John's back gently.

"Tell anyone what?" John asked, and Rodney could picture his cute little brow furrowing.

"That you're a huge fucking sissy," he replied, reaching down to pinch John's ass, and prompting a yelp.

"You little…!"

"Mm," Rodney agreed, grinning broadly and refusing to let go. "You, too."


End file.
